Page 76 of Terminal Voyage

"Who were those guys?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

Francisco shook his head. "You need to be careful around here. A pretty girl like you… High demand."

"You mean trafficking?"

He nodded.

"What do you know about that?"

"There are many gangs in the city. Lowlifes."

"I'm looking for my friend. She went missing a month ago."

He frowned. "I'm sorry about your friend. If she went missing a month ago, she is far from here by now."

I didn't think Kate had been trafficked. But I was keeping my mind open to all possibilities.

Pedro had grabbed my e-bike and wheeled it back to the shop. It was a little battered, but still seemed rideable.

"You think those men will try to harm you again?" Francisco asked.

I shrugged. "I don't even know why they were harassing me. But I bet it's because I'm looking into my friend's disappearance."

Kate wasn't exactly a friend, but it was the easiest way to describe her without sounding batshit crazy.

"Where are you staying?"

I was hesitant to tell anyone anything about my accommodations, but these were good guys. I sensed it. "I'm with friends, staying at the marina.”

Francisco exchanged a look with Pedro, then said to me, "We will escort you back to the marina."

"That’s so kind of you. You don't have to do that."

"Those men are probably waiting around the corner for you. They will try again." Francisco puffed up. "We will stop them."

I smiled. "Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He finished bandaging my elbow and knee, then I tried to stand. By that time, things hurt a bit more.

I wasn't sure what to do about the car I had hit. I hobbled back to it and looked it over. It had mismatched quarter panels and was beaten to hell. The car was originally black, but it had a white panel and a red one. The only reason I could tell where the scooter hit the car was because of a bit of blue paint transfer from the bike.

I asked Francisco if he knew who owned the car.

He shook his head.

It was about that time when a big guy rounded the corner and approached the car. He saw us looking at the vehicle, and his brow knitted with confusion. He didn’t look too happy.

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"She's for sale, if you're interested?" the big guy said.

I flashed a sheepish smile. "No. I ran into your car with my bike. These assholes ran me off the road. I'm so sorry.”

He looked over the vehicle. "Where did you hit the car? I don't see it.”

"There," I said, pointing to the paint transfer.